


These Chains that Pull the Weight

by Tabithian



Series: Fortunes Fade [10]
Category: Batman (Comics), DCU, DCU (Comics), Red Robin (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-22
Updated: 2015-09-22
Packaged: 2018-04-22 21:24:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,156
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4851023
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tabithian/pseuds/Tabithian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ra's' mistake was that he took Jason as a message to <i>Tim</i>, not Bruce.</p>
            </blockquote>





	These Chains that Pull the Weight

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by [another comment exchange](http://archiveofourown.org/comments/39810149) with clarityhiding. :D?
> 
>  
> 
> Takes place some time after Bruce comes back to Gotham after being ~lost in time.

Ra's al Ghul has made a really fucking bad decision in sending his assassins after Jason. Seriously. _Immeasurably_ bad.

Not that Jason thinks he's some kind of unstoppable fighting machine, Christ no. If anyone, that would be Cass. Still, he gave as good as he got against the bastards for a while before they wore him down with sheer numbers. (And knock-out gas, but that was cheating on their part, really.) 

No.

Ra's' mistake was that he took Jason as a message to _Tim_ , not Bruce.

Bruce might have exercised some form of mercy when he went after Jason – he doesn't kill, after all - but Tim?

Tim's proved without a shadow of a doubt that he will not hesitate to kill someone if he thinks it's the right thing to do. 

“Ah, _Red Robin_ ,” Ra's says, like he thinks Jason's a little kid dressing up in his parent's clothes.

Amusing, a source of entertainment and nothing more. 

“Did you know,” Ra's continues, stalking towards him, all lethal grace. “The Detective did not seem to think much of you when I informed him you had succeeded him? Not so much as a flicker of interest.”

Jason's eyes narrow as Ra's comes to a stop before him, looking down his aristocratic nose at Jason. There's a small, infuriatingly smug smirk playing at the corner of his mouth.

“It makes me wonder,” Ra's continues, traces the outline of a bruise Jason can feel forming on the side of his face with a finger. “If he actually cares for you. The evidence would seem to indicate that he does not.”

Jason pulls away from Ra's as much as his binds will allow him, shows his teeth.

He's never been in close proximity to Ra's like this, has never been alone with him. Bruce or Dick always there, deflecting attention away from him, and he's only starting to realize why.

“I was told he tried to kill you.”

That. 

_No._

It wasn't like that.

“My sources,” and Ra's adds sibilance to the word that isn't usually present when he speaks. “Tell me otherwise.”

Tim hadn't - 

That.

Jason knew better than to sneak up on Tim on his bad days, knew that was why Tim went to ground where not even Barbara could find him, but that time.

It had been a fluke of luck, that day. Jason touching down on a roof on patrol following a lead someone had sent Barbara. He'd happened to look to his left and saw Tim ducking into a building. Jason, stupid asshole that he was, had followed because he was worried.

He'd somehow startled Tim and there had been a fight, Tim thrown back to some other time and not really seeing Jason, just another enemy trying to kill him.

Christ.

Jason had gotten new scars and Tim had fucking disappeared on them for months.

Didn't go near Jason or Damian for weeks afterward, until Dick tracked him down. Had some kind of talk with him that seemed to work. 

They're still working on coming back from that, or Tim is, anyway. 

Jason and the others never blamed him, but Tim? 

Jason flinches back in spite of himself when Ra's touches the scar at Jason's throat, startled back to the present.

“So close to being a fatal wound, was it not?”

Ra's' voice drips with feigned concern, sweet poison.

“Go to hell,” Jason spits, pulling at his binds.

Useless, he knows. 

Ra's has learned to how hold a Bat, and the realization _burns_.

A laugh, Ra's dropping his hand back to his side as he steps back, away from Jason. Looking down at him like he's so entertaining, a novelty.

“What does he see in you, I wonder?”

Jason bites back on the words that want to spill from his mouth, the sudden flare of uncertainty, insecurity because he doesn't fucking _know_.

He never did.

Never knew why Robin kept coming by to check on some stupid scruffy little street kid like Jason. Bailing him out of whatever mess he'd gotten into and laughing about it when some fucker got him with a knife, protecting Jason.

And this.

Ra's digging and picking at it. Dredging up all the ugly things Jason thinks about but never gives voice to because - 

Jason breathes hard, drops his head and tries to make his mind go blank.

But Ra's is still there, eyes on Jason, waiting, waiting, patient as any predator. 

“I am told that was not the only time he tried to kill you.”

Jason grits his teeth, closes his eyes and focuses on his breathing. 

_In -_

“He shot you once, or am I mistaken?”

 _\- out._

Jason knows better not to startle Tim on one of his bad days for a reason, scar on his side to show for that little lesson learned the hard way.

_In -_

Ra's laughs again, like they're old friends, catching up. “It seems,” he says, as though you are the only one he has tried to kill, out all of you. Most curious.”

_\- out._

Ra's says that as if Jason doesn't know, as though he isn't perfectly, painfully aware of that fact. 

As though Jason doesn't know how much he pushes, when it comes to Tim.

The others unsure how to treat him, and Jason.

He can still see Tim, the one who looked after a goddamn stupid street kid all those years ago. The one who fought to bring Damian to Gotham. The one who was so fucking determined to find Bruce even when everyone thought he'd finally lost it.

“I - “

Ra's never gets to finish his next string of lies because the doors to the room go flying open with a bang, the sound echoing in the large chamber.

Jason's head comes up, and he freezes.

Tim is standing there. 

Splattered with blood, gun in his hand. His helmet's gone, long, bleeding gash on his forehead, burn high on his cheek under it, jacket torn, singed in places.

Tim's furious. Coldly, deadly, furious and Jason's never see him like this.

Jason risks a look at Ra's and - 

Fuck.

Ra's is staring at Tim, this horrifying look of savage delight on his face, and what the fuck is going on _there_? 

Tim glares at Ra's, the two of them having some kind of wordless conversation that seems to go on forever, Jason shifting uncomfortably.

Tim looks to Jason at the light rattle of the chains, eyes raking over him to make sure he's all right.

Jason just holds still under that look, feeling very small, vulnerable, and then Tim breathes out, and it's.

It's not Tim, but it's not that _thing_ that came slamming through the doors moments ago. 

“We're leaving,” Tim says, and God, Bruce could learn a thing or two from him right now. 

Tim looks at Ra's and says, “Don't ever try this again, or I'll finish what I started with your League.”

Jason feels a shiver go down his spine because holy shit, _what is Tim doing?_

Ra's inclines his head in acknowledgment, a smug little smirk on his face. “Understood, Detective.”

Tim goes over to Jason and undoes his binds, massaging the feeling back into Jason's arms and legs before helping him stand, making sure to keep himself between Jason and Ra's.

He continues to do so as they make their slow, limping way out of the chamber and into the next room. Jason stumbles, staring around a the assassins littering the ground. Broken, bleeding, but alive, all of them.

They're not going to be happy about that, when they come to but - 

“Come on,” Tim says, voice quiet, drained. 

He won't look at Jason.

They make their way through the compound, past more unconscious assassins and support personnel, and when they reach a long tunnel - 

“You look like shit, Todd.”

Pru and her team are there, blocking the exit.

Jason stiffens.

He likes Pru and her team, they'd been invaluable allies when he and Tim were looking for Bruce, but they're Ra's' people.

“Pru.”

Pru laughs, and steps out of the way, Owens and Z entering a code into the keypad beside the doors and moving to stand beside Pru.

Jason stares at them. 

“Thank you,” Tim says, still so quiet, but the gratitude and relief come out all the more clearly for it.

Pru snorts, and looks away. Owens grins and Z nods, small smile on his lips.

“Are you going to be - “

“Worry about yourself, first, Hood,” Pru shoots back, but the look on her face is fond. “And that idiot you're carting around.”

Jason bares his teeth at her, looks at Tim.

And he thinks he understands now, a little why Pru and her team are helping them, _Tim_. (They're more Tim's than Ra's' at this point.) 

Tim snorts, focusing on getting Jason out of the compound to safe territory.

Jason doesn't know where they are exactly. Just that they're in the mountains somewhere, scraggly brush and a flat gold expanse at the bottom of the mountain they're on. 

An hour later Jason can see the outline of the Batplane, and when he looks at Tim sees him smirking faintly.

“I borrowed it,” he says by way of explanation.

Knowing that, Jason isn't really surprised when Bruce, Dick, and even Damian appear out of nowhere when they get closer.

They've been waiting for them, Jason realizes. Sees little smudges on Dick's face, across the blue of his finger stripes, one of Bruce's shoulders.

They were in the compound, at some point, and came back here. Maybe saw the damage Tim had done and realized he wasn't there anymore, and neither was Jason, and really, why not wait for them here?

Tim slows to a stop, hand on Jason's chest to keep him from toppling over when he stumbles.

“It's been handled,” Tim says, an edge to his voice Jason doesn't like. “I told you, this was my business.”

Bruce scowls, and off to the side Damian shifts uneasily.

“Hood - “

“No one's dead,” Jason calls out, which draws everyone's attention because hey, Jason's kind of a mess right now. He put up one hell of a fight when Ra's people grabbed him, though, that should be factored in.

Tim snorts, hands Jason over to Dick when he moves forward, and Bruce.

Bruce is watching Tim, jaw clenched.

Tim turns and starts to walk away, where Jason doesn't know but it's not like the trip back to Gotham isn't going fun enough as it is. Jason doesn't want to imagine what it would like shoving Bruce and Tim into a confined space together with the mood they're in right now.

Damian steps into Tim's path, shoulders hunched up around his ears as he presents Tim with his helmet.

It's sparking slightly, and Jason's eyes widen when he takes in the damage to it that lines up damn near perfectly with the gash on Tim's forehead.

A bullet or a knife or a goddamned sword, Jason doesn't know, and it's not likely Tim's going to be feeling chatty about it either.

“Thank you,” Tim says, cradling the stupid thing in his hands. Looks up at Damian, at Jason and Dick. Bruce, small smile curving his lips. “I have some things to deal with before I can leave.”

Jason winces, sharing a look with Dick, and Bruce - 

Bruce sighs, something tired, old, on his face.

“Hood - “

“No killing,” Tim says, wry amusement. “I have people here. I need to make sure they're taken care of, that there won't be any repercussions for them.”

Dick hisses, so quietly Jason almost misses it, because he has to know who Tim's talking about.

Tim looks at him, and smirks. Hands his mangled helmet to Damian.

“Take this back, for me? I'll need to see if it's salvageable.”

Damian looks up at him, and he looks. 

God, it's so easy to forget how damn young he is sometimes.

“I'm not your servant.”

Tim laughs, and ruffles his hair, something Jason never fails to marvel at because he's the only one Damian will allow that from without retaliating in some way.

“I know.”

He turns and walks away, and no one stops him.

“It's really good to see you,” Dick says in an undertone, nudging Jason towards the Batplane. “Bruce was worried.”

Jason slides a look at Dick. At the frown on his face that hasn't gone away, and smiles.

“Just Bruce, hmm?”

“Totally,” Dick says, fighting a smile. “Damian and I just came along for a chance to fly the Batplane.”

Of course.

********

“You shouldn't be here.”

It's like an echo of the first time Jason broke into Tim's place, all that time ago. (Christ, years now.)

Jason looks up at Tim, smiles big and wide and kicks his feet up on Tim's coffee table, like he had then.

He hadn't quite fallen asleep while he was waiting for Tim, no. He was just resting his eyes.

Tim sighs, undoes the mechanisms to his helmet and pulls it off, sets it carefully on the coffee table by Jason's feet. His other helmet had been a complete loss, and Tim's been cannibalizing it for parts since then.

Jason watches Tim apply the solvent for the glue they use on their masks, tossing his down on the coffee table by his helmet. Hesitates for a moment before he takes a seat across from Jason.

“Jason.”

“Why?”

Tim blinks.

“What?”

“Why,” Jason says. “Why would Ra's go to all the trouble of taking me and rubbing it in your face, not Bruce's?”

Tim looks away, fingers tapping on his knee.

“What did he say to you?” Tim asks, finally looking back at him.

Jason -

“Let me take a guess,” Tim says, and the smile on his face is anything but happy.

“Right after the Pit,” Tim pushes on, ignoring Jason's wince at the reminder. “Ra's had some things to show me. Files, photos. All featuring Robin.”

Jason holds his breath.

“And,” Tim says, hand clenching into a fist on his knee. “Ra's was just so _interested_ in my reaction. Care to guess why?”

 _Blackmail_ , Jason's mind supplies automatically, amends it to _leverage_ a split-second later because this is Ra's they're talking about.

Tim's smile goes crooked when he sees that Jason gets it.

“He told me you weren't – That you didn't think much of me becoming Robin, that you were disinterested.”

Tim laughs, like it's killing him.

Looks at Jason.

“Jason - “

“I mean, look. I know I was like your only choice for Robin at the time,” Jason starts, and he can't look at Tim for this. “So I get it, I do, I mean. Christ, it's me right?”

Tim exhales and it sounds like a hiss, and Christ, Christ, Jason's getting tired of hearing those. They never mean anything good.

“I knew,” Tim says. “I knew, even with everything all freshly broken and jagged in my head, that if Ra's even suspected I cared about you, _liked_ you, he was going to use that against me. Use _you_ against me.”

Jason.

“Ra's already knew about Bruce and the others, tried to drive a wedge between us by showing me what he had on you, because you were _Robin_. You were wearing my old colors and Ra's tried to make it look like you were flaunting the fact in my face, that Bruce was encouraging it.”

Tim rubs a hand over his face, and Jason feels like a horrible little bastard for pushing.

“If I didn't react? It was the only way I could protect you, Jason. I couldn't – there were days I couldn't even move there was so much pain. Because the Pit? It's not something that wants to let you go. It digs in deep and you can never shake it loose. Back then that was the only way, _the only way_ , I could even hope to keep you safe and I didn't know for the longest time if it had.”

Christ, Jason doesn't need to hear this. Doesn't _want_ to.

“Tim - “

“It should have been you,” Tim says, and Jason's mind blanks out for a moment before Tim continues. “You should have been Robin instead of me from the start.”

“What?”

Tim shakes his head, but he doesn't look away from Jason.

“I wasn't. It was never my name,” Tim says, struggling for the words. “Not like it was Dick's, or yours, or Damian's. It never fit right on me.”

Bullshit.

“I knew you would be an amazing Robin, you had so much potential, and I didn't want to see it wasted in Crime Alley. Ask Dick sometime,” Tim says, tired smile on his face. “Ask him about the letter I wrote to him, he'll tell you.”

Jason thinks about that, the night he hitched all the way to Bludhaven and met with the stupid asshole with the even stupider hair. This guy Tim gushed about in his fucking letter to Jason, had a goddamn photo album's worth of pictures of. (It's like Tim didn't know the meaning of the word subtle back then, which fucking _ha_ , bastard played all of them perfectly.)

“I doubt he's going to want to think about that, though,” Jason says. 

God knows he has his fucking letter stashed somewhere he won't have to be faced with how goddamned stupid Tim can be.

This time, when Tim laughs, it almost sounds real.

“Whatever Ra's told you, it's a lie, I promise you that,” Tim says. “I've never thought you weren't worthy of being Robin, that you weren't someone incredible.”

Jason looks at him, and Tim looks right back.

Jason closes his eyes because he doesn't want to see the look on Tim's face right now, hurting because he thinks he hurt Jason. He has no fucking clue how Tim can think he's not one of them, not when he cares about them so damn much, will sacrifice anything for them.

“Ra's knows now.”

“No,” Tim says. “He's known. He knew when he started watching us when we left to find Bruce. He knew when he saw us working together, and he waited until now to use that.”

Why?

Tim looks at Jason, and shrugs. “I'm sure Ra's will let me know when he's ready.”

Oh, well, that's so fucking comforting, isn't it?

“Come on, up,” Tim says, shoving at Jason's feet. “You popped your stitches and I need to redo them before Dick or Bruce get here.”

“What?”

Tim grins at him, and it's so close to being normal.

“Did you forget how they turn into mother hens when someone gets hurt? They probably put trackers in your food.”

That's. Christ, the really scary thing is Tim's right. Those creepy bastards would do something like that, what the hell?

“Why the hell do we put up with them?” Jason asks, letting Tim prod him to the bathroom where he can work with proper lighting.

Tim's voice is wry, “How should I know?”

And.

Fucking perfect, really.

**Author's Note:**

> *hands*


End file.
